Rough Run

My intentions were good - run around the lake.  That’s a great way to start the work week, right?  I struggled getting out of bed.  My body wanted another hour and a half of sleep.  I think Brink’s did too.  I gave him a hard time for letting me doze off for another thirty minutes before finally rolling out of bed at 7:30.

This time last year I was working noon to 8pm and sleeping until 10.  These days I fight off my laziness every morning and get up “early.”  The single motivation to get me up is that I have to run and I have to do it before the sun and heat start to bake everything.  

Brink and I got up to do our normal routine on running mornings.  I drink water, a few sips of coffee, and eat a spoonful of peanut butter.  I try to coax Brink into eating a few kibbels and drinking on demand.  He usually ignores me.  We go outside so he can do his business.  I wait for number two.  We don’t go running unless there is a number two.

When we come back inside I get my running clothes on and my shoes.  This is when Brink starts to get super antsy.  He knows these clothes and these shoes.  He knows we’re going running...not to the park, not for a walk, not for a ride...running.

So after the usual routine we headed out the door for a loop around the lake...at least 2.65 miles, if I was feeling good I was going to keep running into the neighborhood and make it 3.  We started off slowly but about a half mile into the run, I knew something was wrong.  I felt hotter than normal.  I wasn’t breathing hard but I already felt completely exhausted.  My legs didn’t feel heavy or sore so I kept going thinking it’s just a rough patch and I can run through it.  Bad runs happen but I can normally push through them. 

I couldn’t push through it.  I slowed to a walk thinking a walk break might help to reset my insides and convince them it was running time not sit on the couch and be lazy time.  We ran for another quarter mile or so...another walk break.  Ran some, walked some.  Then Brinkley had to poop - this is never any fun because I have to somehow get the bagged tied to the leash so it won’t fall off or bang me in the legs as we run.  We both enjoyed the break from running but we picked it back up again once the bag was secured.

At about the two mile mark I was done.  I convinced myself it was the run that was just was not going to happen.  I was completely sapped of energy and my hands and fingers had swollen from my dehydration...the key ingredient to my highly unusual horrible run.  We walked back to the house defeated but not discouraged. 

Brink wasn’t on his game and he knew I wasn’t either.  We both looked tired and thirsty, which is far from normal.  Lesson learned - hydrate.  Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate.  

Tomorrow is a new day - one that will find me hydrated probably!